I need to begin my Mother’s Day post with some reflections about my mother. She was only 20 when she had me but somehow she knew how to be a loving, patient and mature mom (or mum as she spells it). I could write a long treatise about my childhood and her mothering but I would like to focus on how she mothered my sister when she was sick.
When Madeleine was sick our mother was there. All. The. Time. She was at every doctor’s appointment. She was cooking, cleaning, and caring for Maddy’s kid’s. Mom tried to help Madeleine navigate the end of her marriage, when she was so mired in betrayal, pain and anguish that she couldn’t focus on fighting her cancer. She comforted Maddy as she tried to psychologically prepare herself for the MRIs that caused her so much pain that they sometimes couldn’t be completed. I have one very vivid memory from Maddy’s last summer. We were at the cottage and Maddy was lying in bed in pain. Mom crawled in with her and wrapped her body around Madeleine’s, as she did when we were small.
My mom was strong enough to deal with taking care of Maddy, her children and all the details involved in multiple hospital visits, doctor appointments, home care scheduling, etc.
Mom had support too. Her sister, my Aunt Susan, was also there all the time. We stayed at her house when Maddy was getting treatment at Princess Margaret. Susan helped comfort Maddy, take care of the kids, cook, handle errands and details. She gave Mom the emotional support she needed to help her through such an awful time.
Another wellspring of aid for all of us was Mom’s good friend Marilyn D. Marilyn has been a part of our lives since I was very young and is like another mother to me. Marilyn was always down at Susan’s helping out with chores and child care. She provided us with a shoulder to cry on and was always an empathetic listener. Without Marilyn, we wouldn’t have made it through.
There were many people who helped us during those dark days of Maddy’s illness and death. I am thankful to all of them.
This post is dedicated to the three “Moms” who worked tirelessly to care for a young woman who desperately needed their love and support. I can not express how heart wrenching it is to watch someone you love suffer.
I also need to write about Madeleine. One of the hardest days of my life was watching her say goodbye to her children in her hospital room. I can’t even imagine her anguish knowing that she wouldn’t be there as they grew up. Knowing she would miss all the milestones from loose teeth, to first day of school, to graduation, marriage, and grandchildren. Knowing that when they called out “Mommy” that she wouldn’t be there to answer. Madeleine was a good mother. She needs to be honoured this Mother’s Day.
Here is a photo of my Mom, Maddy and me at my Grandparents cottage.
Oh Erhead. I don’t know how I missed this one! What a beautiful tribute to some amazing women. You are lucky. As are they to have you.
Happy Belated Mother’s Day! xo
What a beautiful tribute to your sister, your Mom and the family you gathered along the way. Many of life’s challenges would be near impossible to navigate if it weren’t for our ‘gathered clan.’ All the Best to you and yours.
I hate cancer very hard too. I’m sorry that you are dealing with it now. You always know just what to say. Sending hugs right back at you.
Sara, We just never know what will happen and we have to try to enjoy every moment. I haven’t been so good at that for the past few years, but I’m getting better at it. Back to my old self. Maybe it’s moving through the grieving process, maybe there are other factors, who knows. I do know that I’m lucky to have such support and strong women in my life.
Thanks Jen. I didn’t fully understand (although I had a strong inkling) what it must have been like for my mother until I had children of my own. Writing this post really helps me to release some of the grief. To see the love and devotion clearly.
Thank you Nicole. I am very lucky and so are my girls.
Love to you too. Erin
I hate cancer too – very hard.
Erin, this post was just lovely, and touching, and heart-wrenching. I can’t imagine the strength it must take to mother a sick and dying child… all that your mother did, and all she had to bear… it makes me want to sob. What a wonderful woman you have in your life. I should say “women”… your sister Maddy sounds like she was a rock too.
It’s all part of your good stock, lady. Sending you hugs and love this Mother’s Day. Now and always. xoxoxox
I’m with Jen here Erin – I am speechless. I can’t imagine what your mom faced and of course Maddy. I often think that my mom went when she did because she wouldn’t have been able to handle losing any of her children before her. What a strong, amazing mom you have. I will think of Maddy on Sunday and hug Will extra hard and hope beyond hope that I’ll be there to see him grow just as Maddy should be here to see her kids grow. Cancer ….I hate you cancer.
Oh, Erin, your writing is so clear and straightforward, and yet this is one of the most emotional pieces I’ve ever read. I am literally soaking my keyboard as I type. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for your mother, watching her child suffer emotionally and physically. What a feeling of helplessness.
I think of the truth in that saying, “a mother is only as happy as their least happy child” and I grieve once again not only for Maddy, but for your mother, and your entire family.
Take care.
Dear Erin,
As I am incredibly lucky to know your mum, Susan and Marilyn D, I could not agree with you more. You are the luckiest woman to have these three incredibly strong motherly figures in your life.
When I look back at the women that have most touched my life they are my mother, my grandmother and a woman I have never met; Aung San Suu Kyi (The leader of the NLD party in Burma). It’s amazing to me that as children we can grow up with several motherly figures that weave themselves into our personal fabric and stay with us our whole lives.
I know two very special little girls that will grow up and know how lucky they are to have you as their mummy.
love to you,
Nicole